The Knight of Swords
by Gigi256
Summary: Three cards and a call to arms changed her path dramatically. One soldier changed his. Together, they changed the world. (a Vampire Academy does Disney / VA does Disney story heavily inspired by Disney's Mulan)
1. Chapter 1

"Rose! What are you doing?"

"Sleeping." I flipped away from the sound of my father's voice, folding my pillow in my arms and shoving my face deep inside the soft cushion to drown out what I knew what would be coming next.

"I see that." He laughed a little and I heard the _tap, tap, tap_ of a cane getting closer. Despite his cheerful exterior, he must have been having a hard day. He hated using that cane. Unfortunately, I knew someone else who wouldn't be nearly as amused by my little show of defiance as he was, especially today. "Your mother is waiting in town for you."

The sheets felt that much softer with the reminder of what would be waiting for me in the harsh reality beyond my bed. At this point, did it even matter if I rushed off to meet her? I was so late that she'd be pissed either way.

When I told him so, my father made the choice for me by throwing open the curtains. "Go. If you don't, we both get to listen to her complain about what could have happened if you had bothered to show up."

I hissed at the light, but not nearly as loud as I did when he shouted out some last minute fatherly advice over his shoulder.

"And wear a dress, will you? Sometimes we have to remind them that you're a girl."

* * *

The stupid thing was slipping again. I adjusted the black fabric over my thighs for the third time since leaving the house and kicked off my shoes to run the last few blocks towards Ms. Rhonda's place. A younger man gave me a passing glance and a suggestive smile before his wife slapped him harshly on the shoulder. They had been married about a year now, but that man's reputation for a wandering eye was legendary. Apparently, their marriage was on the rocks for it, but there wasn't much that could really be done about those sort of things. She just needed to soldier on and pretend that everything was alright. That's all anyone ever did around here: pretend and soldier on.

There was sure to be several girls tittering about the square, waiting for some big announcement about their future and the lifelong love they were sure to find with the help of Ms. Rhonda, but I wasn't going to be among their numbers. I guess I was, _technically_ – being forced to be a part of the whole charade and all. But I certainly wasn't going to bounce on my toes and gossip with the others about how excited I was about someone else deciding my fate.

I had put this off as long as I could, and from the disapproving fire in my mother's eyes as I rounded the corner, she wasn't going to let some mussed hair and dirty feet keep me from meeting with the so-called matchmaker. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I got distracted."

She scoffed. "You neglected to get out of bed."

I wasn't going to lie to her, but I wasn't about to admit that she was right either.

"It doesn't matter now, I guess. You're here, and that's what really counts." She glanced down, sneering as I tried to slip on my shoes without falling. "We don't have time to clean you up any, but perhaps that's for the best."

When I paused, shoe half on, and looked at her with confusion, she sighed and continued, "We wouldn't want to give any false impressions."

I laughed, mostly because her little slights had stopped offending me long ago. I knew I wasn't the perfect daughter that she had hoped for – she had made it quite clear over the years – and I had eventually stopped trying to play the part.

The whole process seemed archaic to me. At one point, over a century ago, matchmaking had been necessary to keep Dhampirs alive: match a Dhampir woman with a (typically low-class) Moroi man, and bingo, survival of the race. Now, people did it as a way to show off their status. Families bragged about who their son or daughters were matched with.

It wasn't limited to dhampirs and low-class Moroi anymore, either. While I'm sure royal Moroi had used some sort of arranged marriage system in the past to keep their family lines 'pure,' it was hardly the spectacle that it was now. Their matching party almost out-shown their actual weddings.

Some Royal Moroi didn't have the luxury of those big celebrations, however.

"Liss!" I rushed towards the perfectly primped blonde in a very stunning (and appropriate) blue dress. She was the girl that I knew my mother would have wanted me to be. Unfortunately, for my mother at least, Vasilisa Dragomir was my opposite in every single way. Perhaps the most glaring difference was the fact that she practically a princess, the last heir of her royal line. I wasn't much more than a menace to society.

"Fancy seeing you here, Rose. I wasn't sure you were going to make it." She gave me a knowing smile, completely recognizing my utter hatred for this whole process. I could forgive her for being here. Her presence was practically a necessity, especially if you considered that she had been orphaned a few years back and needed a good match to continue her family line. Ms. Rhonda would certainly take care in choosing a spouse. But I, and the other dozen or so girls here were nobodies.

That didn't keep some of those nobodies from throwing dirty looks my way as if my mere presence would have any standing on their matches. I acknowledged one with an overly friendly and perhaps slightly threatening smile, relishing in my victory when she huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder in annoyance.

"Nice dress." Liss's smile grew as she looked me up and down.

I let my hip jut out a little. "Yeah, I figured I should show off the goods for whatever poor guy ends up getting stuck with me."

Our banter dissolved into laughter since we both knew good and well that either:

A. We were being matched to someone in town so the poor guy was already well aware of what 'goods' they were getting or

B. We were being matched to someone out of town and wouldn't be meeting them for a week or so.

Our joy was cut short by the creaking of a door. It shouldn't have sounded so loud with the hustle and bustle of life in the square, but destiny always demanded attention.

"Camille Conta." The older woman didn't even look up before walking back into her little storefront. The girl she had called looked stunned for a moment before slowly falling in line behind her. The excitement that she had been showing just moments before seemed to drain away with every step she took towards the red-trimmed doorway.

My own irritation seemed to melt into nervous dread as she moved forward, too. One by one the girls exited the tiny building, most with a smile to some degree on their faces, and a few nearly squealing in delight. But there was one, Avery Lazar, who was in literal tears as she gave her mother her match's information. The moment her mother looked at the paper, her face turned red with fury. It clearly wasn't something as simple as a daughter's impending and possibly far away move that was causing the tears; they obviously didn't agree with the match. But once a match was made, it was final.

Just as tradition dictated, her match was announced to the public. When the herald called out the name, Lissa and I both winced.

"Christian Ozera!"

Christian was a friend to us both. Perhaps more like a brother to me, since we had grown up with neighboring properties and tended to play together in the dirt when I should have been learning 'more appropriate' tasks for a girl of my station, according to my mother. I think she partially blamed him for my less than ladylike ways.

But he certainly wasn't brother-like to Liss. Since my father had been an advisor to her family, she and I had also been playmates. When her family passed, she was often found in my home and eventually met Christian. They had taken a certain liking to one another, and while I hadn't exactly approved initially, they were good for one another.

Their match, though, would never happen. All three of us knew it. It was one of the reasons why I was hesitant to encourage their romance. It was a big reason why I hated this entire process. They would never match a noble like Vasilisa Dragomir with a lowly, poor, unfitting outcast like Christian Ozera. Not when he was living off the generosity of his aunt and uncle, who had purchased his parent's property to keep him out of the poor house. It wasn't his fault that his parents gambled off the family money, ran away, and left him with all their debt when he was barely thirteen — everyone decided to blame him anyway.

I heard a shuddering breath beside me and took Lissa's hand. I knew that, on the outside, she appeared like the amazing, regal woman that she always projected to the world. Inside, however, I could practically hear her heartbreaking.

My name was called second to last. The crowd had built steadily over the afternoon as people gathered to hear the Dragomir match, and it was somewhat intimidating to know that so many would witness mine as well. I had the brief thought as I walked through the doors and into Rhonda's red velvet covered room, that perhaps I should have been matched with Christian. It wouldn't have been a romantic life, but I never expected one. Not really. But at least we wouldn't hate or be hated by our partners. He already had an uphill battle from the reaction of his future wife, and I doubted my soon-to-be husband was going to be much happier.

The useless thought passed quickly as I was urged to sit on a padded chair across from the matchmaker, with a table covered with plum colored silk between us. There were several woven baskets filled with trinkets that would inevitably decide the rest of my life. She pushed one such basket filled with several decks of cards, all bound with colored string, towards me. She gave me a quick nod and I grabbed a black and red one near the back, bypassing the one with golden edges. Lissa would probably like that one more than me. When she smiled and started shuffling the chosen deck, I caught sight of a few of the cards. Images. These were tarot cards, I realized.

"Three card reading," she said, pulling my curious gaze away from the deck. "I must know who you are and what your future entails before I provide a partner to assist you in walking that path."

When she put it that way, it almost seemed ideal – the idea of finding a partner to share a path in life with. However, the fact still remained that a woman who was a stranger to me and holding nothing more than a pack of cards would be the one deciding exactly who that person would be with pretty much no input from me.

She pushed the deck towards me, telling me to cut the deck into parts before pulling three cards out. The symbolism behind the cards was beyond me, but I was still able to read the titles and see the images.

One was a man who looked to be walking between three trees, called the three of wands. Another was a knight on a horse, helmet barely covering some dark hair, and charging into battle with sword held high. The card was aptly named the knight of swords. Finally, the last card was flipped upside down from the others, but the image was still pretty clear: a sun. There was a naked child looking fairly happy and playing underneath the sun, but the card was clearly named for the bright, smiling image in the center.

Ms. Rhonda stared at the cards for a while. And then a while more. After what felt like 'a while' too long, I started to get worried, and it seemed like she might have been also.

"Is everything okay? I'm not going to die, am I?"

She gave a vague ' _hmm'_ that was anything but reassuring.

"What is it?" I could hear the tremble in my own voice, and as much as I wanted to silence it, I couldn't. Forcing my mouth close only made my teeth grind together.

"Your cards. There are some...concerning things." She straightened out, waving a hand over the three cards and then pointing to one of them in particular. "The Three of Wands. You're optimistic and confident in who you are and the endeavors you undertake."

So far, that didn't sound too 'concerning' to me. Perhaps a bit creepy with how well it described me but weren't most people confident in their decisions once they made them? At least to some extent?

"Then we have the Knight of Swords. They're heroic and often speaks their mind. The knight's also impulsive. 'Punch first and ask questions later,' if you will."

I gave a little laugh, barely hiding my interruption behind a false cough when she glared at me.

She tapped in the card and continued, "I don't see just your personality in this card, though. I see something else. Perhaps..." The way she said it, it was as if she wasn't so sure of herself. She looked over a paper next to her that seemed to be a list of names – perhaps possible matches – and shook her head. "I don't know what to make of it. Though you chose it, this card isn't yours alone."

"What about this one?" I pointed towards the last card that was laying upside down on the end.

She sighed, and I went rigid. "Unfortunately, I feel very confident about what card means."

"It seems pretty happy to me."

"It is. It suggests that you should be true to yourself. It encourages you to throw off cultural conventions that might encourage you to hide your hopes and desires. It promises you that if you reveal your true nature, others will appreciate what they see."

With every word, I felt myself smile a bit more. I wasn't immune to the stares and whispers that occasionally followed me when I was walking in town. My resentment and occasional disregard for our local traditions had made me an outcast among some of my peers. Most days, I was able to stick to my guns and hold my head high, but every so often I just wished that people could understand where I was coming from and accept that I simply wanted something different in my life.

"But," my hopeful feeling shattered that single word from her. "When a card is upside down, you can expect the opposite. Hide yourself. Others won't accept the real you. Follow traditions or prepare for a difficult road ahead. Set aside yourself for the greater good."

 _It's just a deck of cards_. I repeated the phrase over and over. It means nothing. _It's just a card. Ink on paper. I just randomly chose these three cards and their supposed meanings are imaginary._

None of my twists of logic were making me feel any better. It just...stung. Those stinking cards were saying the same thing everyone else in my life told me: change yourself.

"I'm sorry." The touch of Ms. Ronda's hand pulled me back into reality. I quickly blinked back the threat of tears, hoping that she didn't see, but her soft smile told me that I hadn't been so lucky. Apparently, luck just wasn't in the cards for me today.

"Anything else?" I asked, trying to hold my head high and save the last of my pride.

"No. That's all."

I nodded, standing just as she did, and turned to follow her out the door. It wasn't until we were stepping outside that I realized she had never given me a paper for my match. She had never even told me his name.

She must have sensed my question right before I asked it, because she whispered to me, "I cannot match you."

I wasn't able to ask her why, or really even process what she was saying, when she spoke louder over the crowd, "No match!"

I heard the sudden intake of breath from everyone, myself included. Then the whispers. I knew if I looked, I'd see their stares. I knew that two, in particular, would hurt more than the others: Lissa with her pity, and my mother with her disappointment.

The whispers became louder with every step I made towards the crowd. They weren't even trying to hide their curiosity. I couldn't remember a time when a woman had been denied a match, and it seemed nobody else could either. I was waiting for someone to outright ask me what happened in there, but they were kind enough to offer my mother that honor, and she wasted no time in doing so.

"What did you do!" I could barely hear her voice as she hissed the accusation in my ear, but it was pretty clear that it was taking everything in her power to keep from yelling at me in front of everyone in the town square.

"Nothing. I swear!" I replayed the past few minutes over and over again. There had been several chances for me to misbehave or talk back, but I had actually done pretty well. Did I choose the wrong deck? Surely it wouldn't have come down to something like that. "She gave me a card reading, told me some stuff, and then said she couldn't match me. I barely said a word the entire time. I don't know what happened."

People kept staring at me, even after Lissa's name was called. They had all been gathered for her, but now I was going to be the talk of the town. I was used to getting some sort of attention for my rebellion here and there, and it had never truly bothered me this much before. Sure, it stung, and sure, I hated that they didn't accept me, but I was still generally okay with who I was. Right now all I wanted to do was hide.

' _Hide yourself. Others won't accept the real you.'_ That's what Ms. Rhonda, and the cards, had told me.

I had planned to stay behind and wait for Liss – I had always been there for her before – but I just couldn't take it. So I ran.

* * *

I didn't cry. I didn't do crying. I was just…

Okay. I was crying.

Not about not being matched. I had never really wanted to be matched in the first place. It was the embarrassment. Once again I had stuck out like a sore thumb in front everyone. Not only that, I had become a public spectacle. Usually, if I caused an uproar, it was by my own choice, not because someone stood me up in front of a large crowd and pronounced me unfit to move up to the next level of 'normal' society.

But that's what Ms. Rhonda had said, hadn't she? I needed to hide myself. Follow the rules or risk never fitting in. Now, I was risking being outcasted entirely.

"Hey, Kiz." _Tap. Tap. Tap._ "How are you doing."

I turned, quickly using my dress sleeve to rub at my eyes to remove any trace of my tears before facing my father. Granted, I could practically feel how red and bloodshot my eyes were, so I was sure I wouldn't be fooling him or anyone else.

"I'm fine, Baba. It's just been a long day." I shrugged like it had been nothing more than a hard day of work or school, and not one of the most horrible moments of my life thus far.

"Your mother said that things didn't go well at the matchmaker?" It sounded like a question, but I'm sure my mother had told him, with plenty of colorful language to describe both me and my shame, exactly what had happened.

"Yeah." I sniffed and biting my lip and using the pain to fend off more tears. "Apparently I'm unsuitable for a match. It's not really surprising. I mean, who would want to be matched with me. I'm a mess."

"You're perfect," he insisted before I could dive into another session of self-hatred and doubt. "Sure, you can be reckless and obstinate at times, but that's part of your charm. You jump in head first and with all your heart. That's something to be admired. You protect those you love, and you work hard to accomplish what you believe in. That's worth more than you may think."

I shrugged but felt his arm come around me and pull me tight against him.

"Did you ever consider that it might not be that you were unsuitable for a match, but that there wasn't a match suitable for you?"

I laughed outright this time. I knew he had to say those things because he was my father, but I wasn't so vain (even on my best day) to believe that I was so much better than every man in that match pool. "Sure, Dad. Whatever you say."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but my mother called us from the back door. She didn't sound angry anymore, but she still sounded plenty upset. Frantic even. Enough so that I popped up from my place on the grass to run over.

Despite the urgency, I slowed a little when I saw how much distance had grown between me and my father in my rush. He was moving quickly, but he obviously wasn't as spry as he once was and it showed. Physically, at least. He was still smarter than a whip if he needed to talk himself (or me) out of trouble.

My mother met us on the last few steps holding a red envelope with a gold seal. I ripped it out of her hands, ready to break the seal when my father took it from me.

"The Queen," he started, saying what we all already knew. When he served as the Dragomir's advisor, these sort of letters weren't too uncommon. They would typically mean some sort of business needed to be handled at Court, and he'd be gone for a few days. Those letters had trickled off a long time ago, however. He was retired, now. We hadn't seen one in nearly five years, maybe longer.

As the wax holding the envelope was broken, a sense of foreboding seemed to fall over the three of us. I noticed the unusual addressing a moment before he pulled the single piece of paper from its sleeve. It wasn't addressed directly to him. In fact, it wasn't addressed to any of us, really. It just said, "Mazur."

His breathing had been a bit shaky from our run across the yard, but it became worse as he silently read the first line.

My mother must have noticed too. "What does it say?" she pressed.

" _Strigoi forces have pushed back troops beyond our southern border, and are expected to continue their advance unless reinforcements arrive. In light of recent events, Queen Tatiana has issued a draft, calling on families to sacrifice one male family member to military services. Please visit your local city hall for more information."_

I kept waiting for there to be more. Certainly, there would be something inside that said our family was exempted. My father was the only male member here, but he was nearly forty-five. He had served as a part of Court staff, so surely they must be familiar with him. They must know he was unfit for combat. He was injured! He was crippled in the same attack that killed the Dragomir's! Surely they couldn't expect him to become a soldier!

"Dad?" I stared at him in shock, but he didn't say anything. The letter hadn't offered anything else for him to say. Nothing special to release him from duty. It had merely been a form letter, exactly like the one that every other family in town had probably received.

His back straightened and his cane dropped to the ground, falling with an echoing ' _clang_ ' at my feet. "I'll pick up my papers tomorrow morning."

Apparently, we would do what everyone always did: pretend and soldier on.

* * *

I ran to my father's side the moment he stepped through the door. He had left hours ago for the city hall, and it was well past dinner now. "What did they say?"

He patted my shoulder gently, urging me away a moment later so he could collapse in the chair next to me with a long sign. After a moment's rest, he opened his eyes, and I could already see my answer in their weary, defeated gaze. "I'm a year shy of the cut off date."

"Even with your injury?"

"I never told them."

My mother slipped him a cup of tea and looked at him questioningly. "You didn't tell them?"

He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "The truth is, things are much worse than we were led to believe. They're desperate. They need men and I'm able — or at least more able than others. I may not be as young or healthy as I once was, but I can manage."

He tried to stand and I watched him wince as his full weight rested on the old wound. He couldn't manage, he just wasn't willing to admit it. My father was just as stubborn as I was. I had inherited that trait from him.

Well, if he wasn't going to accept reality, I'd be more than happy to slap him in the face with it. "You'll die out there! You know you will!" My mother hissed at me, begging me to shut my mouth, but I continued without missing a beat. "Those monsters will be more than happy to pick off the weakest prey and you'll be the perfect target: an older man with little training and a leg that slows him down."

I waited for him to fight back and defend himself, but the longer he stared at me in silence, the more I realized that he already was well aware of his fate. He had already resigned himself to it.

"No…" I said slowly. I felt the words morph into a small plead. "No. You can't go. Please."

"I have no choice. They need me."

" _We_ need you here! They can have someone else. One person won't matter." I was begging now.

"I'm going, Rose. That's final!" His voice echoed through the house, and when the air finally settled, he looked at me with remorse. "I leave tomorrow. And yes, I may die, but if I die making sure another man is able to live, then so be it. If I die making sure you and your mother live, then that sacrifice will be worth it."

I couldn't change his mind. It wasn't worth even trying anymore. Perhaps I should have spent that last evening enjoying my final hours with my father, knowing that I'd probably never see him again, but I couldn't bear to stay in the room with a man condemned to death. I couldn't watch him eat his last meal and pretend that everything was going to be okay tomorrow. I couldn't laugh and act like it was normal. If they wanted to put on some sort of show, then good for them. I wasn't going play along.

I stood abruptly, giving him one last glare and one last chance to change his mind, but he just turned away. I mother didn't get anything other than my disappointment. At least I had tried to get him to stay. She had just sat there, content to let him leave without a fight. With a bitter slam of the door, I started walking towards the old oak that I had been wallowing under just yesterday. Yesterday, I had been positive that I had lived the worse day of my life. Surely nothing could have been worse than being told that you, and perhaps society in general, were better off with you pretending to be anyone other than yourself. Certainly, nothing would hurt as much as knowing that nobody would ever accept you as the girl you were. And of course, I had been wrong – things could always get worse.

It didn't seem right to mope in the same place twice, so instead of settling against the trunk of the tree, I turned and made my way towards the road leading into town. I wasn't sure where I'd go, but hopefully, it would beat where I was. I eventually made it to the edge of the main square and started watching the last of the men file out of the Town Hall. Some of them seemed confident, but a good deal of them seemed like they were barely masking their terror. I wasn't the only one watching them as they left, though. I saw a familiar figure, Lissa, sitting next to one of the shops. Twenty-four hours ago, we had been the ones on parade, and now, people couldn't give a damn about matches or romantic possibilities.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine." She gave a pathetic attempt at a smile then let it fall, perhaps deciding it wasn't worth it.

"You sure about that?"

"Not really." She shrugged weakly. "But it hardly matters now."

I nodded, fully understanding her somewhat vague reply. "So what happens now? Actually, I haven't even asked what happened yesterday after I left." I had been so distressed with my own issues, I had almost forgotten that her life had changed as well.

"I'm heading off to Court," she answered flatly, almost like we were discussing the weather rather than her marriage. She didn't notice my shock and continued just as blankly as before. "They matched me with Adrian Ivaskov."

"The Queen's nephew?" With her own noble heritage, had expected a high match for her, but a Royal one? I didn't imagine that. Seeing that the Queen had no heir of her own, nor any living siblings, her nephew was actually in line to inherit the throne.

Lissa nodded. Most women would have been thrilled to have such a match, but I knew Lissa wasn't one of them. She didn't care about titles. She had wanted Christian, and now Christian was stuck with that horrible girl, Avery, and neither of them could really do much about it.

Another man walked through the double doors of the hall and Lissa perked up. The black mop of hair left little doubt as to who he was. Perhaps Christian wasn't stuck with Avery as a match after all.

"He enlisted." It wasn't a question.

"He didn't have a choice." None of them really did.

He turned, automatically spotting Lissa through the thinning evening crowd. It was as if the two of them were magnetic, pulled together automatically any time they were within a breath of one another.

"You two should talk," I insisted, standing up and leaving her behind before she could protest. Honestly, it looked like she didn't need much encouragement from me. She was rushing towards him before I had a chance to finish my sentence.

I watched him take her hand for a second, just a moment before remembering that she wasn't his, and immediately dropped it again. They walked back slowly down the path that I had come, talking and occasionally brushing hands as if savoring each and every one of those little touches, counting them down until there were no more left. Soon, all three of us would be separated. I had always known this day would come, but I had always thought that maybe, somehow, we'd end up happy. Or at the very least, we wouldn't end up miserable.

I wondered the town until the shops had closed and the streets had cleared, and then a little longer still. When I finally gave up and admitted that I couldn't run away forever, I started the long walk home, using the candlelit windows of the various houses as my guide. Occasionally, I was drawn to the silhouette inside one of those homes. A couple holding on to one another, perhaps saying their own goodbye like Liss and Christian had done earlier today. A man alone, packing a bag. And then finally, a father playing with his child. That one hurt me the most since the child looks no more than a five or six. She was far too young to understand that her father was going off to war. I stared, heartbroken, while he picked up the little girl and swung her around while her hair fanned out behind her. She looked like she was laughing with him, and wiggled when he brought her close for a tight hug. Finally, I noticed something that struck me more than anything else. He lifted a helmet – a clear sign that he wasn't a new soldier and was more likely to come home from battle – but instead of setting on his own head, he placed it on his daughter's. The helmet completely masked her, and while it seemed to amuse them both, it sparked an idea in me.

I ran home, now energized with new hope in my future and a plan to save my father.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

* * *

Yay for a new story! This is an adaption of Mulan, created for the "VA does Disney" project on Tumblr's VAfiction page. While it will follow the basic storyline, there will be a few distinct changes. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and I hope you'll enjoy the chapters to come.

A few notes: this will NOT be updated weekly like the DPOV series. It will be updated randomly as chapters are finished. That might be every other week, that might be once a month, who knows (not me lol). I have several scenes written, but at the moment the DPOV series is my priority. But you guys know that I never jump into something without the intent to finish it. I also want to give two big shout-outs. The first is to my beta for this story: Muffin1995. She's a dear and is jumping in since I'm running my other girls ragged. The second is to DoubtTheStarsAreFire. We teamed up with the cover art for this story. I did some of the sketchings, but she made it pretty enough to be posted. Thanks love! You can check out the FULL artwork over on my tumblr.

Let me know your thoughts in the reviews and be sure to fave/follow to get notices when I update!


	2. Chapter 2

I threw my pack over the fence and climbed it quickly; something that had become second-nature through years of sneaking out. It seemed much more daunting tonight, though. The small bag didn't hold much. Just a few simple sets of clothing – mostly shirts and pants that I had stolen from Christian long ago so we could run and ride easier. Dresses weren't exactly conducive to that sort of activity. There were a few other necessary supplies for my task, but I hoped I wouldn't need much more where I was going. The pack hit against my side while I sped through the apple trees, and I watched as they gradually changed from one variety to another. I knew this path through the orchard like the back of my hand, and as I raced to beat the sunrise, I only stumbled once; to dodge a newly broken limb that hadn't been there a few days before.

Hopefully, Christian hadn't left already. I didn't have a contingency plan, so all I could do was pray that he was still there. I paused to catch my breath for a moment, giving a sigh of relief when I got close enough to spot him. He had just thrown the saddle on Anna, his chestnut mare. I had made it just in time.

"Christian!" My voice was only a whisper, but it still seemed to ring out in the early morning air.

His hands stopped and his head snapped towards the dark brush where I waited. "Who's there?"

"Who else?" I stepped into the light and his eyes went wide.

"Rose?" He rushed over, looking me up and down as if he was seeing me for the first time. I realized suddenly that he _was_ seeing me for the first time – at least like this. "What did you do to your hair?"

It barely touched my shoulders now, and I ran my hand through the freshly cut locks only to feel them disappear through my fingers much faster than I would have liked. I kept imagining there was more hair than there actually was now; like the rest of it was a phantom still lingering despite being chopped off just an hour ago. The feeling of the fringe tickled the back of my neck and I shivered at the sensation. I didn't want to tell him how uncomfortable I felt with it this short, so I stood a little taller and grinned. "You like?"

"It's certainly...different." He carefully examined me again, and I was sure he noticed a few other changes to my typically feminine figure, but wisely chose not to mention them. "What are you doing here? That's the better question."

"I'm coming with you."

"No. Nuh-uh." He shook his head and slipped his foot into the stirrup of the saddle. "You can't come. Even if your father were okay with this – which I know he isn't – I wouldn't allow it."

I grabbed the back of his coat and pulled him back down towards me. "You're going to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Right now? Yes. It's for your own good. You're going to get yourself killed. This isn't a game, Rose. It's war." He looked at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum, but his attitude quickly became grave. "And if the enemy didn't kill you, the army itself would. You know they restrict the service to men only."

"Yeah," I replied, trying not to roll my eyes. "Us womenfolk are supposed to make the next generation of soldiers for this war."

He gave a twisted little grin, acknowledging the truth, as sad as it was. "I know you don't like it, but at least you guys will be safe." I knew he wasn't just speaking about me. Lissa would be safe, too. "Are you sure you're not running away? I know the matching didn't exactly go well for you."

"Are you sure _you_ aren't?" I threw back at him. "Things didn't exactly work out in your favor either."

He didn't answer me right away, but I could see that my words had struck a chord. "I didn't exactly volunteer to fight this battle, and I can't say I'm thrilled to be going, but sometimes things like this are better than the alternative." He'd rather die than live with Avery. Or, probably more likely, he'd rather die than live without Lissa.

"I agree. Some things are better than the alternative." When he tilted his head in morbid curiosity, I continued. "My father was drafted. You know as well as I do that he'd never make it. I'm going in his place."

He silently let the news hang between us, before eventually nodding and gesturing behind him. "Aunt Tasha's horse is in the stable."

"Wait...we're stealing your aunt's horse?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, considering she's gaining the rest of my land, I'd say it's a fair trade."

"You're giving her the rest of the orchard?!" I think I sounded more upset than he did. Except for Lissa, and perhaps his darn horse, I don't think he cared for anything more than the farm he devoted his life to.

He sighed. "Of course I am. What am I supposed to do with it? I'm going to be gone for who knows how long. There's a chance I might not be coming back at all. Someone needs to take care of it and I'd rather it stay in the family."

It certainly made sense, especially since his aunt had basically raised him after his parents abandoned him, and it was only by their grace that he had the orchard in the first place. If I could recognize that, he was probably even more aware of how much he owed her.

"It's either that or you get in the cart." I peeked at the small cart tied to Anna that was filled with several crates of apples. Before I could question it, he told me, "I was asked to bring some of last year's harvest to the camp. With all the new recruits, they're going to be low on supplies. There's medicine, fabric, and some more things from other vendors in town as well. I guess every village has been asked to offer goods for the cause. There should be enough room for you, though."

I smirked. "Are you saying I'm just another bit of supplies to be hauled out there?"

He glanced back with a knowing grin. "Technically, Rose, I'm pretty sure _we're all_ just supplies for this army."

His remark would have been funnier if it hadn't been so true. I couldn't bear to be hauled away like that, though. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it my way. That meant riding into camp on my own accord and with the purpose of saving my father to help me hold my head up high.

I started walking backwards towards the stables, keeping my eyes on him. "We'll bring your aunt's horseback," I promised, hoping that those words alone would be enough to guarantee that we'd both survive and that he'd one day be able to offer the animal back for his home as easily as he was now trading his home for a horse.

By the time I had saddled the horse and we began our ride, the sun had already crested over the trees. Still, we were long gone before anyone had the chance to notice I was missing.

Break

"Rose! Look! We're here." The mass of people filling the valley left little doubt that, after hours of travel, we had finally made it to our final destination. Two tall cliffs rose high to cap both sides of a sturdy stone wall. We couldn't see beyond the wall, but just seeing those giant rock faces was enough to make the scene feel ominous. It gave a sense of power and a slight feeling of foreboding. One misstep, and you'd be falling to your death.

I reached over to smack him but only found air. "Not so loud, genius. I'm not exactly supposed to be here, remember?"

He seemed pretty nervous himself, almost more nervous than I was. "Oh, I'm well aware."

We pressed on a bit further in silence until we were entirely surrounded by men from all walks of life. Some looked strong, exactly as you'd imagine a soldier to be, while others seemed barely able to stand on their own two legs. Several were as old as my father, but some were younger than me and Christian. Considering we were only eighteen and nineteen, respectfully, it seemed hard to imagine people younger than us being compelled towards the cause. We shared a concerned glance as one such boy passed us.

There was only one very noticeable thing missing from the scene: women. I seemed to be the only woman within a dozen miles of this camp, and it was a bizarre sight.

Eventually, we were forced to dismount, and he and glanced over his shoulder with some concern. When I caught sight of what he was looking at, my stomach dropped. There were two guards at the entrance of the camp. They were fairly imposing and were probably meant to intimidate the newcomers. If so, they were succeeding. They glanced at everyone going through the checkpoint but stopped Christian with his cart. One man kept a hand on Anna's reins, while the other one looked over the supplies. Apparently finding everything suitable, or at least not questionable, he waved over another person from the other side.

"Mikhail will help you take this over towards the supply area." He gestured vaguely somewhere to the right and then looked at me. "He'll take your horse to the stables, too. You can follow the others towards the official check-in. They'll get you your pack."

I watched Christian leave before following the mass of men towards what looked like some registration center. I could have easily slipped in one of the lines with the others, but I lingered near the back instead. I wanted to make sure that Christian was nearby. While I had been confident in my choice before, and still was, to be honest, the pressure of what I was doing hit me hard now that I was actually here. Being alone made it seem that much more unnerving.

Somehow, I spotted Christian over the hundreds of unrecognizable men wandering without direction. He headed my way but stomped pass me, glaring at nobody in particular.

"What happened? Is everything okay with Anna?" Christian had a temper, but even his didn't burn this fast without a good reason.

"She belongs to the army now," he said harshly through his teeth.

I paused a second and then ran to catch up with him. I wanted to comfort him, but I doubted I could find the right words. Comfort was Lissa's territory, not mine. Anna had been one of the few things Christian had refused to sell when his parents had left him in ruin and stacked with their debt. Now, it seemed the army had taken her just like the supplies Christian had willingly given. Apparently, his apples and his life weren't enough. They took his beloved horse, too.

"Christian," I whispered, trying to get his attention back after he had been so entrenched in his private indignation over the theft of his horse. We had slipped into one of the lines randomly and it had taken me far too long to realize something very crucial to maintaining my disguise. "Christian. They're pairing people up for tents."

"So…" His shoulders were still tense and my observations seemed to be only making him more upset. Unfortunately, my worry took precedence over his petulance.

" _So…_ " I mimicked him before continuing, "we're going to be split up! Right now, I'm going to end up with the guy behind me."

I saw the implication hit him and watched as he started counting off pairs, ending with the same conclusion: he'd end up with the blond guy in front of him, and I'd end up with the red-head behind me.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, watching the line grow a bit shorter.

"We just need to switch." His solution was so obvious that I was slightly annoyed that I hadn't thought about it myself. Perhaps that's why I spoke too quickly to the man behind me.

"Go ahead of us." It sounded more like an order rather than a suggestion or offer, and he didn't seem to take kindly to that.

"Why?" I could already see the argument brewing in his mind. Of course, rather than pacifying him, I made it worse

"They're pairing people up. You and I would end up in a tent together and-"

"Are you saying you don't want to bunk with me? Do you find something wrong with me?"

"Listen, man," I heard Christian try to cut in but the guy was much angrier and much louder.

"No! I want to know why this guy who looks like he's too small to even hold up a sword thinks he's too good to share a tent with me?"

Things were quickly getting out of hand, and for the life of me, I didn't know how it happened or how to fix it. "It's not that! I promise. It's just that Christian is a friend from home and I'd prefer to-"

"What's your name soldier?"

I turned immediately at the deep, commanding voice. The owner of it was so tall that I had to step back to actually meet his face and when I did, I was immediately flustered. He looked terrifying, but a horrible part of me still was drawn to how stunning his eyes were. And there was also a part of me that was significantly distracted by how well his black shirt fit over his chest.

His voice broke through my daze. "Soldier! I asked you a question!"

"Ro-." Of course, the first name that came to me was my own, and I barely stopped myself before saying it completely. When I hesitated, his eyes seemed bore deeper into me, and with every passing second I didn't say something became a little bit more frantic to find an answer. Any answer. Of course, Christian's name, as well as my father's passed through my mind, but both of those would mean backtracking.

 _Oh God. He's staring at me like I'm an idiot. What's my name?!_

Suddenly, I recalled a name I hadn't thought of in years. The name of my mother's brother, her only brother, who had died just a year before I was born.

"Ronin, sir," I barked, trying to make up for my lack of confidence earlier. "Ronin Hathaway."

He eyed me carefully and I met his stare, silently challenging him to question me. I desperately hoped he wouldn't, but I still knew enough small details about my uncle to make a convincing story. A few small twists and I could certainly make it work in my favor.

Luckily he didn't seem to sense any deception, or if he did, he was beyond caring. Perhaps it seemed like nervous stuttering rather than the outright lie it actually was. Either way, one soldier out of a hundred, who was most likely going to die anyway, probably didn't matter much to him. "Is there a reason, you're already causing issues in my camp?"

I bit my tongue, holding in the curse that was waiting to break free. He wasn't just a guard. He was an officer. A Captain or a General or something. It didn't matter, really, he was the one with the power to kill me.

"No, Sir," I replied. The red-headed man that had been arguing with me a minute ago snickered, unfortunately loud enough to be heard. The officer turned on him.

"How about you, soldier?"

Realizing that he was now in the crosshairs of the officer's fury, the man beside me straightened and replied, "No, sir."

The officer nodded, apparently satisfied with our submission. "Very well. I suggest you fall in line, then, and be ready to follow the rules of this camp or face the punishment of disobedience. I do not tolerate insubordination." He left, passing down the rest of the line, observing his new men without any indication as to whether or not he was pleased with what fate had brought him. If I were prone to wager, I would say he wasn't.

"Who was that?" I asked, not addressing anybody in particular. I could vaguely see some tattoos on the back of his neck, but they were mostly obscured by his hair which was tied back low in a band.

"Commander Dimitri Belikov. He's apparently god on the battlefield." I turned to the man I had been arguing with before. Based on his awe, it seemed like we had something in common, though he seemed more impressed with his credentials than with his physique. "I'm Mason, by the way."

Introductions went all around, including Eddie, the man who had unfortunately been drug into this whole mess simply be standing in front of me and Christian. A truce between Mason and I had been formed after our mutual scolding, and he had been more than willing to move ahead when he realized that Christian and I were friends from home. With so many strangers around, clinging to a familiar face was a small comfort that he could recognize.

Once we finally made it to the registration desk, all it took was a name to announce what house we were serving from, and a signed declaration that said we were serving 'of our own free will,' to be given our supplies. We were all officially enlisted. Eddie and Mason took their packs, and then Christian and I did the same.

The entire encampment was set up in a semi-circle. We had been registered at what would apparently serve as some sort of dining hall in the days to come, but when we moved around it and towards where we had been urged to set up our temporary homes, you could see a large clearing that was obviously designed for training. Across the field, there were several more elaborate tents set up already. It was easy to tell that they belonged to the various higher-ups around here. I scanned them, trying to decide which one of them might have belonged to Commander Belikov, but they all looked pretty much alike. Only the one in the middle of it all seemed to stand out, being at least twice as large as the others.

The view on our side, however, was nothing but an expanse of tan canvas and dirt. The occasional men walking around the area wore clothing that was just barely distinguishable in color from the tents themselves. I pulled away one corner of my pack and saw the same dingy beige and brown fabric that everyone else was already wearing. I hadn't expected any finery here, but even Christian's poverty-stricken wardrobe looked significantly more extravagant than this. Brushing my hands against the coarse fabric only make my spirits drop more. Simply wearing this stuff would be irritating.

We set out tent as far as possible from the others, choosing a shaded spot on the hill that overlooked most of the main camp. There was one tent to our left, but otherwise, we would be in a fairly private area. As soon as it was built, I moved inside to escape the heat, but Christian was hot on my heels. He flipped open the canvas door, checking around us before closing it again and tying it tight.

"You're going to die," he hissed, quietly. It was the first words he had spoken to me since our unfortunate encounter with the officer.

"I know." I moaned in despair, falling back against my pack for just a second before finding my strength again. Releasing the high bun that my hair had been tied in, I shook it own and rubbed at the tender scalp. It tingled a little under the release of pressure, and winced and the strange and somewhat painful pleasure.

"How are you going to keep this up?" He asked, sitting down next to me. "You barely managed to stay hidden for one day. You know we'll be at this for weeks, maybe months, right?"

"It'll get easier!" I insisted.

"Sure. I mean you already got the tough stuff out of the way...like your name!"

I grinned, mostly just to annoy him. "Exactly!"

"Rose! It's not funny. Also, how in the world did you forget something so simple in your cover-up? It's pretty much 'hidden identity 101.'"

"Huh, must have missed that class. But in all honesty, this was kind of last minute. I was more worried about not looking female."

"The fact that they haven't questioned your voice is pretty amazing."

I paused, not wanted to say out loud what I knew we had both noticed earlier. Eventually, it came out anyway. Someone had to acknowledge the horror. "Christian. They have kids as young as sixteen here. They aren't going to worry about my voice being too high." One of those boys, who had looked younger than sixteen honestly, had stood a few places in front of us while we were issued our camp packs. His voice had cracked, perhaps because of nervousness or whatnot, but nobody had commented. We had all been a little on edge ourselves.

So," he continued after a moment of awkward silence, "do you have a plan now?"

"Train, fight, and hopefully survive. Same as you."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

* * *

Dimitri has made his official entrance! As has Mason and Eddie. I know it's just a peek of them for the moment, but we'll get quite a bit more as the story goes on. Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far. The reception has been incredibly positive and I'm so grateful for your support of this story and the _"VA does Disney"_ project as a whole. I look forward to reading more of your thoughts. Keep an eye out for another chapter soon. Until then, have a wonderful day!


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